Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

I Promised Myself This so I’m Going to Do It!

by Sissy Suzy

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© Copyright 2005 - Sissy Suzy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; latex; cd; cons; X

I Promised Myself This so I’m Going to Do It! by Sissy Suzy
This is probably going to take longer to set the scene than describe the event but here goes. I am a sissy. Yes, I love to wear little satin dresses, petticoats and all manner of girlie clothing. I also love to be bound and, as if that wasn’t enough, I also love rubber. I am a married man with an accepting spouse who doesn’t really like to get involved in any part of this hobby of mine but fully appreciates that given the opportunity I am going to indulge in one, two or all three of them.

My wife had told me at the beginning of the week that she would be spending all of the coming Saturday in town with some friends so there would be plenty of time for me to be ”Frilly” as she calls it. This seemed liked it was going to be a great chance to put a plan into action that had been forming in my warped mind for a while.

Most of this plan revolves around the use of a pair of Timecuffs  ( that I purchased some time ago. For readers who don’t know of this product it is basically a tube that connects two cuffs. The key to the cuffs is held inaccessible in an ice block. When the ice melts the key is released. Simple, safe and secure.

The next part of the plan required my high chair. Well, it’s not a real high chair but a converted high backed wooden stool that I have fitted with a removable table like a high chair. I have made another addition by way of a footplate that is fitted with stocks that clamp around the ankles. A T-shaped leather harness starts at the seat, goes between my thighs and then fits around my waist and the back of the chair. It is a bit tricky to get fastened into everything but once in, padlocks ensure there’s no escape. That is, except for my hands. I decided to drill the table part to accept two strong tie-wraps that would hold the Timecuff securely to it. 

Now, where to do this. We don’t have a large house and I wanted to avoid just sitting in the middle of the lounge or in the bedroom or somewhere. I also have a fondness for dark enclosed spaces for my bondage sessions so I started thinking about the cupboard under the stairs. This is not your average tiny cubby-hole but big enough to store considerable equipment I use for work but, as luck would happen, is presently quite empty. A quick run around with a steel tape confirmed that the set up high chair would just squeeze in. 

Now, I like being risky as much as the next self-bondage enthusiast but I didn’t want my wife to return from her day trip to find me suffocated and strapped in a high chair. Would there be enough air in the cupboard to last the session? I had no idea. I needed to be able to open the door if I had to. More over, I needed a plan to discourage me from doing so unless I felt like I was suffocating. I calculated that if I placed the high chair just inside the cupboard, facing the door, I could push it open. As it is simply a push-close type catch, opening the door would be easy. But what was going to stop me doing this just as soon as I was strapped in. I decided I would have to use an element of discovery to discourage me. 

I tested propping a piece of wood against the door that would be out of reach once I was strapped in then pushed the door enough to just open it. The weight of the wood pushed the door wide open. At this point I would be on display to anyone who came to the back door: Perfect. As it happens my wife has parcels delivered on an almost daily basis so we have a sign we leave on the front door asking for parcels to be left at the back door. We then leave the gate that enters the back garden unlocked. So this was the plan. If I opened the door before I could escape from the high chair, I would be on display to the postman. Poor postman. For maximum embarrassment I would need to wear something particularly sissy but I also wanted to be encased in rubber.

I decided on this bizarre wardrobe for my session. As I was unsure how long I would be trapped I would need to wear a nappy or two and plastic pants. Well that was my excuse. I usually wear a nappy when I get frilly anyway. I also wore a bra and big false boobs. I’m not sure why I just thought it might add to the humiliation if I ended up being seen. Over this I wore a rubber leotard. This is the best description I can give you of this garment. It has a panty-style bottom and sleeves and zips up the back. Before I zipped it up I put on my full-hood gas mask. This is a wonderful item that covers the entire head and comes down to the shoulders. Once the leotard is zipped up it is impossible to remove the gas mask. Another nice feature is a small rubber tube that can be connected to a bottle of water. I set this up in the cupboard too. I didn’t want to get dehydrated. 

It was time for the sissy part. With a bit of a struggle I pulled a little yellow dress with a cute pinafore front over my head and down to just below my waist. My rubber encased arms looked funny under the short sleeves of the dress. Matching yellow satin panties followed and I was sure they would be on display as I sat in the high chair. The final touch was a pretty yellow satin and lace bonnet over the top of the gas mask hood. Mary-Jane shoes don my feet and calf length white socks my legs. What a bizarre picture I presented. I was already getting warm and steamy in the gas mask. No time to lose

The timecuffs were tie-wrapped to the table. I ran out and unlock the gate then sneaked the notice on the front door. This is a dangerous time, I needed to get in the cupboard and shut the door. As quick as I could I got everything together inside the cupboard and closed the door: I was safe. I have installed a light in the cupboard and the switch would be accessible even when seated in the high chair. 

First I fasten the ankle stocks. Now the waist strap. Now the table with the cuffs is fitted with no room to spare. I have a wall one side of me and a shelving rack jammed on the other. It’s a tight squeeze but it fits and I lock it into place. Don’t forget the tube to the water. Damn, nearly forgot to wedge that piece of wood against the door. I’m sure I would have remembered that once I was trapped. I reached for the big rubber gauntlets I had previously placed on one of the shelves. First I pull on the left glove, followed by a studded leather cuff that I use to protect my wrists. Now I do the same thing for the right hand. What’s the time? It’s 11:30 am. I set my alarm clock to go off at one-thirty so I know I’ve been in there a couple of hours. I don’t know how long the Timecuffs would trap me but I was sure it wouldn’t be any longer than three hours but could be less than two. I debated for some time over whether I wanted to listen to the radio or have some other means of knowing the time but decided I wanted to be isolated for the maximum experience.

The point of no return approaches. I feel butterflies in my stomach. I check the flow of the water, no problem there. The gas mask is already steamed up but that doesn’t matter, I won’t be looking at anything anyway. The clock has no backlight. A wiggle of the toes confirms the stocks aren’t tight. I shift in the seat slightly, no the belt doesn’t hurt or anything. I say to myself before I chicken out, “I’ve promised myself this so I’m going to do it”. All sorts of questions pop in my head. What if I’m stuck for four hours or more? Answer, tough, you’ll be OK you can always open the door if you need more air. I check I can reach it. I can. What if I can’t stand the gas mask any longer? Answer? It’s not unbearable now is it? Anyway, pace yourself. Sure it’s warm and smelly but that’s what you wanted isn’t it? And the biggest question of all, “What if I cum before I can get release?” With those layers of nappy padding down there, it’s not very likely. You’ll just have to control your urges and hope you can’t get enough stimulation to do any good. I have to admit my penis is trapped between my legs. The nappies, plastic pants and rubber leotard all contribute to keeping it rather limp and I can’t even feel the end of it even with my hands free. I should be fine.

I apply the left cuff. There is a spare key on one of the shelves just in case. It will be out of reach once I fit the other cuff. I test the tightness. It’s just right: Not too tight. I don’t want to get tingly fingers but I need to feel trapped. It is the cuff that has the key trapped in it. I test if there’s any movement in the ice yet. There’s none, it’s still solid. I reach up and switch the light off. There’s an outline of the door as the light from the kitchen tries to find it’s way into the cupboard around the doorframe. I switch the light back on as I realise I’m not sure which side of the cuff the keyhole is. I switch the light back off and offer the cuff around the leather wrist cuff. With that “What the hell” attitude that comes over me at this point I gently clicked it the same number as I had for the left wrist. A soothing feeling of resolution washed over me as I tested each click for tightness and restraint.

The phone rings. I pull on the cuffs but they’re not going to give. What if it’s one of my mates ringing to tell me he’s popping round? More incentive to keep the door closed I guess.

I test my bonds. Yes I’m trapped. The gas mask is hot and sticky. I feel the sweat drip down my face and settle at the neck seal of the hood. I draw on the tube for water to compensate. I thought I would be getting bored but I’m loving this.

Part of the bondage experience for me is attempting to escape. I pull on the cuffs and the ice is giving the merest hint movement. I lean forward and find I can’t reach the back of my neck to unzip the rubber or the dress. The gas mask is staying on. My penis tries to swell and is quickly met with the resistance of the nappies and the rubber. The crotch strap holds it fast as well so I try to rub up against it to get some stimulation but it has no effect. I whimper with frustration. I am forced to sit and wait. I decide that if the alarm goes off I should open the door. We’re hardly likely to get a visit from the postman after one-thirty on a Saturday. Then I remember the phone call and change my mind.

It doesn’t seem all that long before I can work the ice block in and out of the tube in the Timecuff. It won’t release the key but I figure the friction will speed up my escape. I can only work it for a half a minute or so before my right wrist is hurting from pulling over to the left. I do this intermittently with rests. Then all at once the bung that fits in the end of the tube pulls out with one of my efforts. Ice cold water leaks out over the table-top and down onto my bare legs. I shudder but enjoy the coolness.

A little more rest and I try to take a nap but I can’t rest my rubber-covered head anywhere. The wall to my right is just too far away to be comfortable. I am very relaxed, not panicky at all like I was concerned I might be. I am thinking, ‘Actually I don’t want this to end anytime soon’. Another part of me has other ideas and I am pulling on the cuff. Suddenly, with a combined sense of both relief and disappointment I feel the key release from the ice. Cold water pours onto my legs again.

I am completely free of the chair before I open the door. My first action is to run outside and lock the back garden gate again. I check the time. It has been an hour and forty-five minutes. I turn the alarm off on the clock. I thought it would be much longer but it was pretty hot in the cupboard so I guess the ice melted quickly. I make a mental note to put more water in the Timecuff and leave it until the last second to get it out of the freezer should I ever get the chance to repeat this session. 

I grab some of the items I had used and headed to the bedroom to peel of the clothes and get under the shower. Just as I am reaching for the zip to the dress, I hear the doorbell ring. I wait silently with baited breath. I’m convinced the whole street can hear the whooshing of my breath in an out of the sweaty gas mask. I then hear the letter box flap rattle as the postman leaves a note to say that the back gate was locked and he has left the parcel in our recycling box. I wish he wouldn’t do that! Hell, that was a close call. I reflect on the session and think to myself, I’m going to promise myself to do that again. Maybe I’ll cuff my hands behind my back next time.


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